Not Again
by StrangePenguin
Summary: *Last Chapter UP* Will Jesse survive?...Please R/R :-) It's over, it's done, yeah!
1. The Conference

Disclaimer: All these guys don't belong to me, but to another genius! ;-)  
  
  
  
I know that the idea is not really an original, I just couldn't resist! Hope you like it though. Oh, and: Thanks for encouraging me writing in English! Please R/R :-)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Good morning LA, this is Timm Jefferson, your host and I hope you've already filled up your swimmimg pools 'cause this is gonna be our new hottest day of the year..."  
  
Brandon Dawn turned off the radio as he entered the room. Probably the nurses had left it on. Now the room was perfectly prepared for the meeting, the water glasses had been set onto the large table and the windows were wide open on this warm day of July.  
  
Brandon sighed. It was only nine o'clock gone and already 86 Fahrenheit. The air flickered between the high towers of downtown LA, flickered over the highways, flickered over the pacific.  
  
Brandon took off his jacket, took place at the edge of the long Mahagoni table and looked through his papers one more time. What a great day for the Community General's year budget conference! Maybe he should... But no, if he cancelled it now, he would never set a new date for it, that was for sure. The hospital administrator sighed again, but this time not because of the heat.  
  
He wasn't exactly looking forward to that meeting. Normally the doctors, who didn't like each other, were just kept apart in the big building of the CGH, but here they met every year and who assumed that they would let go a chance to annoy each other was badly wrong.  
  
Fed up with the stress and the prosprects of a budget shortening anyway, the medics seemed to be almost happy about the possibility to vent their bad tempers on some of their colleagues. If you added up all this to the incredible heat today, the disaster would be even more awful that usually.  
  
The door swung open. Brandon Dawn looked up, having just been pulled out of the state of panic that was impending to swallow him. This wasn't gonna be fun. To his relief he saw Dr. Mark Sloan, Head of the Internal Medicine, and Dr. Amanda Bentley, Head of the Pathology, walking in and smiling a 'hello' at him. They were both very nice, warm and good-natured. He liked them.  
  
Right behind them was Dr. Jen Andrews, an excellent surgeon and also new Chief of the laboratory of the CGH. She was having a heated, but friendly discussion with Dr. Ron Perkins, Head of the Pediatric, who wore already a multi-coloured Hawaii shirt 'cause he was up to leave for his holidays after the conference.  
  
They were talking about the difference between American football and the 'normal' football and obviously having fun.  
  
"I just don't see why you call a game 'football' which consists of huntin' an egg and beatin' up each other...", said the young girl while she settled next to the good-looking pediatrican, who replied: "Women and sports...", before the others insisted to start with the files.  
  
Brandon felt delighted now. Maybe this wouldn't be that terrible at all. But then he spotted an empty chair, the one next to Mark Sloan and his heart sank. He knew that most of the people in this room couldn't bear much anyway, and inpunctuality was something like a capital offence. He pitied the poor guy who didn't arrive in time.  
  
Shaking the thought of him out of his mind, Brandon began the conference. He wasn't able to prevent the trouble anyway.  
  
The first ten minutes were almost amazingly peaceful until the door was flung open and some one rushed in. The young man dressed in scrubs panted a weak excuse before he slumped into his chair. Desperately looking for a glass of water, the Head of the ER, Dr. Jesse Travis, finally found that there wasn't one for him. His place had been forgotten.  
  
Mark saw the exhaustion in his friend's face. As he knew the ER was busy at the moment, full of sun-burned and heat-shocked people, mostly tourists. Jesse had helped Alex and the other interns, he wasn't the kind of man who let others work for himself.  
  
Quietly Mark pushed his glass of water over to Jesse and earned a very grateful glance from his friend. Jesse emptied the glass with one deep gulp.  
  
"Maybe we should start a collection and buy a wristwatch for Dr. Travis!" No one could miss thewords of Dr. Phillip Gratcher, Head of the Plastic Surgery, spoken in a way that was typical for him, sharp, dry and offending. "Have you accidently left yours in a patient's stomach?"  
  
"Oh God, Phil, let the boy alone!", Dr. Tom Springsteen, Head of the ENT's, was reaching with his thick fingers for a Havanna, which he was used to carry around in his the pocket of hiswhite coat, while he simply shook his head. "Can't you let people catch their breath at least before you start to tease them?"  
  
His hoarse and threatening voice seemed to act on Gratcher, who shut his mouth immediately. But the derogating look was still in his eyes. Nobody wanted to guess what he was thinking.  
  
Only to make sure that they could go on Brandon held up his hand appeasingly. "Gentleman, please! And, Tom, the cigar!"  
  
Springsteen chuckled unnervedly and put the Havanna back into his pocket  
  
  
  
Only ten minutes later two pagers went off and at the same time Jen Andrews and Jesse Travis jumped onto their feet. "Car accident!", shouted Jen in the direction of the angry faces, trying to sound apologizingly, but couldn't help smiling brightly.  
  
Jesse saw a wall of blackness coming towards him and grabbed the back-rest of his chair for a second. It was as quickly gone as it had come. Probably had had just stood up too quickly. Damn heat.  
  
Getting out of here was the best thing that could happen to him. Also he was grinning when he and Jen closed the door behind themselves. 


	2. The Shock

Jesse and Jen pulled the bloody gloves from their hands and watched their patient being wheeled up into the recovery room. His injuries had been quite bad, broken ribs and internal bleedings.  
  
But he would be fine and that was definetly the merit of the two excellent residents who had operated. They hadn't worked often together, yet, and though they were one of the best teams the CGH had ever had. Four hands seemed to be directed by one person, knowing exactly what the others did.  
  
"Four hours, I think that's our new record!", Jen said, glancing at her watch. When she noticed that Jesse's face wasn't looking that happy at all, she gave him a smack. "And these idiots up there are still sitting in that horrible room and arguing about 1.50 Dollar!" She giggled.  
  
Jesse didn't listen to her. He fought the terrible nausea that was about to overwhelm him since the moment he had left the OR. Dinner last night? A noodle salad and a sandwich in the hospital canteen. Not very tasty, but that was no point talking about hospital food. During his night shift? Coffee, coffee, coffee and a chocolate bar. Breakfast? Two doughnuts, Mark had eaten more and didn't seem to be ill.  
  
But he himself was ill, Jesse knew now that his meals made their way from his stomach upwards his gullet.  
  
"Sorry, I guess, I'm getting sick!", he managed to say and then hurried out of the room, pressing one of his hands onto his mouth.  
  
Jen confusedly watched him running away and shrugged. Probably the heat. Or the phormaldehyte. That happened even to the best doctors from time to time.  
  
  
  
When Jesse entered the doctor lounge later, he wasn't feeling better. Having vomitted about half an hour, his sickness had gone by now, but he still felt dizzy, his body was almost numb and his view a bit blunt. He leaned against the doorframe and forced himself to smile as he said: "Hi!"  
  
Jen looked up from her book with a sympathsizing expression in her eyes. "Hey", she answered, "how are you feeling?"  
  
"Not that bad", Jesse lied. He didn't want to worry her and besides he was bit to proud to admitt that he felt like a tank had run over him. "Probably just the heat!"  
  
She nodded understandingly and pointed at a can of coke that stood on the table next to her. "Drink that, it's not too cold and my mom used to tell me that this is the only effective remedy against sickness. Anyway you must be terribly dehydrated!"  
  
Jesse swayed over to the couch and collapsed onto it. His legs were so heavy that he had problems to pull them up. Trying to take his mind off his awful condition, he asked: "What are you reading?"  
  
She shrugged. "Some rubbish called 'Totally Messed Up'. It's about two police officers who are trying to find the antidote for a deadly virus before mankind is exterminated. Maybe the author should change the title into "Totally Loony", that would hit the point better the anything else. No sense for reality!"  
  
Jesse gulped. That was a bit too much reality for his taste, but he felt to tired to tell her that. He needed some rest. Only a bit rest. He closed his eyes. Maybe...he......needed..............only...........sleep.................... ....  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve Sloan took a deep breath as he entered the Community General. The heat outside was indescribable. 95 Fahrenheit and the temperature wouldn't stop increasing during the day. Everyone talked about the weather. Global warming up.  
  
The police leutenant run one of his strong hands through his slightly wet hair. He felt like an egg sunny-side up. The minutes he had spent in his car were enough of a reason for him never to buy a black Ford again.  
  
Steve scratched his arms. They were the true reason why he was here. A terrible sun burn, which had started to peel, covered his upper body and it felt like old leather. Steve had sat ten minutes in the sun yesterday, only ten minutes, only to relax a little after a long day of hard work. That had appeared to be to much.  
  
To spare himself his dad's see-what-happens-if-I-don't-keep-an-eye-at-you- all-day look he had worn a pullover during the dinner. Steve wasn't sure if that had really been worth it.  
  
Now he was searching for Jesse to ask him to give him some cooling ointment. Jesse wouldn't grass him. But where was Jesse? The ER was empty apart from Alex, who treated a tourist, who was shouting at him in language that sounded like French.  
  
Walking into the doctor lounge where he assumed his friend to be, Steve glanced around carefully and spotted Jen Andrews, reading a book, and Jesse, laying on the couch.  
  
"Hi!", still standing in the doorway, he lifted his arm quickly for a 'hello'. She looked up from and nodded a silent welcome. She knew Dr. Sloan's son as everyone else here. Who could overlook a good-looking guy like him? Dark-blonde hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders and very tall.  
  
Unfortunately a little too old for her.  
  
"Is my dad somewhere around here?", asked Steve.  
  
She shook her head and formed with her lips the word 'conference'. Steve rolled his eyes. Oh yeah, that conference, how could he forget?! His dad had moaned for the last three days about that meeting.  
  
Now that he was sure that he wouldn't meet his dad here, he came closer to Jesse, who had curled up on the uncomfortable sofa.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
She pointed one finger at her mouth and made a retching sound.  
  
He grimaced. That was the reason why his friend was so pale. "You think I can wake him up?"  
  
"He's been sleeping like dead for over one hour. Wake him up, he really should drink something. But I doubt that he'll be a big help for you and whatever you up to."  
  
Steve nodded as he sat next to the small figure. Jesse wouldn't be able to treat him without breaking down meanwhile.  
  
"Jesse!", he said and shook his friend gently on the shoulder. "C'mon, buddy, wake up!"  
  
He earned nothing but a groan. "Jesse!", Steve shook him now a little intensely. He slowly became restless. Jesse breathed rather fast and the color had faided from his face. Something was wrong with him, even Steve could see that.  
  
"Dr. Andrews, he doesn't wake up!", he said, shifting his young friend prudently onto the back.  
  
The woman shut her book and got up. Scrutisizing Jesse, she frowned. "Odd thing", she murmured, "he didn't look like this ten minutes ago."  
  
She bent down next to Jesse and patted his cheek. "Hey, Travis..." Whatever she was about to say got stuck in her throat. "Damnit..", she muttered and put her hand onto his forehead.  
  
"High fever!", she diagnosed, glancing at Steve with a mix of shock and surprise. Reacting quickly, she checked the vital signs. "Racing pulse, rapid breathing..."  
  
"What happened to him?", Steve asked also quite shocked, but more he was worried.  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know, could be a shock or a allegical reaction...or an infection."  
  
"Maybe we should call my dad...", Steve had already pulled out his cellphone (he was too confused to remember that there was one in the doctor lounge), but he got no answer.  
  
"I bet Dawn forced them to switch off their pagers", mumbled Jen and headed for the door.  
  
She waved Dr. Alex Martin, one of the new interns in the ER, and asked him to come over to her. She didn't want to cause too much sensation, the last thing she needed now were two dozen curious people blocking the way.  
  
The young intern hesitated. It was known that the doctors often regarded the new interns as their personal slaves and Jen had to admitt that she hadn't sounded very politely.  
  
"What's up?", asked Alex asked finally, coming closer.  
  
"Please go upstairs and say Dr. Sloan that we need him here. It's important!", Jen couldn't hide her impatience.  
  
Alex let out a sarcastical, but amused laugh. "You want me to go up there?! Why don't you tell me to jump into a cage full of lions?!"  
  
She grabbed his wrists tightly and glared at him. "Dr. Martin", she hissed, "I'm not in the mood of playing silly games with you! Dr. Travis is seriously ill, has got high fever and we need Dr. Sloan here RIGHT NOW. So go and fetch him or you have been the new intern for the longest time!"  
  
Alex had heard enough. Ignoring her last remark, he was already on his way upstairs.  
  
  
  
  
  
In the meanwhile Mark had given up any efforts to look at least a bit interested and also Amanda made no attempts to hide any more that she was deadly bored.  
  
Dr. Perkins played day-dreamingly with his nameplate that had been set on the table in front of its owner and Dr. Springsteen had his cigar already in his mouth though it wasn't on fire.  
  
Mark rubbed his eyes. Five hours. He wasn't very interested in financial things anyway, but you could really no one expect to pay five hours attention for the year budget. All the numbers and statistics Bradon Dawn showed them, the arguings the administrator had with  
  
Gratcher and some others, were they really so important that you could waste a whole day with it?  
  
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, but the one who stood behind it didn't wait for an answer, but just rushed in. As Mark turned around to look who was in that terrible hurry he saw Alex Martin stumbeling in.  
  
"I need to talk to Dr. Sloan!"  
  
Mark sighed in relief inwardly. His prayers had been heard. But when he saw the worried expression on Alex face, his realized that something had to be very wrong.  
  
'Steve!', was his first thought. How often had he been pulled out of his all-day routine by a call or a messenger, some one who told him that his son had been shot, involved in a car accident, Mark didn't even want imagine what it was this time.  
  
He got up and left the room even before Alex could open his mouth to tell him what the matter was.  
  
Hurrying down the corridors to the elevator, Alex put one hand on his teacher's shoulder, managed to stop him and asked him if didn't want to know what had happened.  
  
"I must see him, Alex, my son needs me!", said Mark and headed off. Alex needed a few secondes to understand what Dr. Sloan was meaning. "Son?", then he slapped himself onto his head and ran after Mark.  
  
He caught him up at the elevator where Mark was impatiently pressing the botton to make it come.  
  
"Dr. Sloan, Mark, listen to me...", tried Alex, but was interrupted again.  
  
"On no, he's not....is he?", the older doctor seemed to be so scared about the news that might expected him that Alex was almost happy to shake his head and declare at least this as good news.  
  
"Mark, Steve is fine! It was a misunderstanding..."  
  
Mark let out a sigh. "God, Alex, I'm so glad to hear that...the way you looked at me....I thought...", he gave his student a self-concussious grin, but noticed horrorfiedly that the look in whose eyes hadn't changed at all.  
  
"It's Jesse...Dr. Travis", corrected Alex, but that didn't seem to be the biggest problem at the moment.  
  
The heavy weight on Mark's chest fell as fast as it had been lifted up seconds ago. 'I'm such an idiot!', he thought depressedly. At that moment the doors of the elevator slid open and Mark entered it, dragging Alex with him to be reported about the details.  
  
"What is it?", he asked nervously.  
  
"I..I..don't know, no one does, that why they need you! Dr. Andrews said that he is very ill and has got fever..."  
  
"Not again...", Mark couldn't help but mumbling that with a shaken voice.  
  
"Sorry?", Alex wasn't sure if he had got the last remark right.  
  
Mark waved it away with a quick movement and enquired: "How high is his temperature?"  
  
Alex grimaced. "According to Dr. Adrews: very high!"  
  
In despite of the terrible heat a cold shudder ran down Mark's spine. "Not again..."  
  
  
  
MORE TO COME  
  
  
  
I DON'T HAVE AN IDEA WHERE THIS IS GONNA LEAD US. WE'LL SEE! HOPE THERE HAVEN'T BEEN TOO MANY MISTAKES SO FAR AND YOU LIKE IT, THOUGH IT ISN'T REALLY NEW. 


	3. The Murder

The Murder  
  
"...If I don't have a full blood analysis in my hands in at least twenty minutes, I'll test some new toxic liquids on yourself!", yelled Jen into the room and closed the door with a bump.  
  
'Don't get upset, remember your blood pressure', she told herself. That was a very bad joke. One hour and these snails hadn't even started with the blood examination. Scratching her head, she turned around to Mark and Steve.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we can't be sure until we have the final results. I only can say it was definetly no shock reaction because of the heat as I assumed first. It must be something else, but as I said...", she accusingly pointed out the door behind her on which some big, black letters read 'Laboratory'.  
  
"I should better go and give these fools another bawling-out, otherwise they'll never learn that they work for a hospital and not for a travel agency where they can watch football all day..." She smiled optimisticly at the two men, waved them a good-bye and disappeared behind the door.  
  
Steve and Mark didn't feel for smiling. They still saw their friend laying on the couch, unconcussious, pale, with sweat covered face. They had screamed his name, again and again, but he didn't appear to hear them, he was writhing somewhere in a delirious dream.  
  
"Mark! Steve! Oh my God, what's up?!", Amanda cried out, running over to them. Finally she'd got out of that conference. Since Mark had suddenly headed off she had wondered what could be wrong. Finally she could ask him.  
  
"Amanda!", Mark was glad to see her, she was always so warm, so comforting, he knew how the news would shock her and wondered how he could put it into words. "Jesse is ill. He's got very high fever and I'm sorry to say that we don't know why..."  
  
Amanda's eyes widened with horror. She wasn't able to say anything, but she picture that she had in her mind was clear, a bit to clear for her taste. She hadn't even realised it but her lips formed a weak 'Not again' and Mark nodded in silent correspondence.  
  
"Dad?", Steve didn't have an idea if he should really dare to ask this question, but he just had to know. "In his condition, I mean if he gets worse, I mean the temperature...how..how bad is it?", he stammered.  
  
His father avoided Steve's eyes and swallowed hard. Should he really tell him the truth? Maybe it was right to lie at him. Mark wished that he could dupe himself. Sometimes he hated to be a doctor. But no, it wasn't fair, to none of them.  
  
"We should wait for the results, but...", and now he was at a loss of words. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Nothing had changed, still were two blue eyes curiously frowning at him. "If he doesn't get better in the next fourty-eight hours, then..."  
  
He couldn't go on. No, he would never let this happen!  
  
A cellphone ringed. 'What a great moment!', Steve thought angrily and answered the call. "Sloan?...yeah....what, now?...ok...ok...where?!...will be there in as soon as possible..."  
  
"What was that?", asked Mark, though he was only mediocrely interested. His usual so mischievous blue eyes had lost their shine. His mind seemed to be too far away, somewhere else...  
  
  
  
"A murder was commited in the security wing of the LA prison! I've gotta go there, let me know if there's anything new..." Steve wiped the sweat from his face and ran towards elevator.  
  
Not knowing what to do next, Mark and Amanda wandered planlessly along the halls. The heat became more and more oppressive and Mark didn't even wanted to guess how Jesse had to feel. What had the boy done, that those things always happened to him? The nurses and doctors passing by nodded in their direction, of course they already knew how serious Jesse's shape was.  
  
Mark sometimes smiled back at the people who obviously tried to give them comfort, to be there in the way you can for some one you don't really know and like though. A young man grinned brightly at them and Mark again smiled back friendly, wondering where he knew this man from. He had sworn that it wasn't from the hospital, but maybe the heat and the circumstances affected his memory.  
  
They were on their way to Jesse's room when they suddenly froze. Was that imagination or...The sound that had joined them for the whole summer couldn't be heard any more. The faint humming had gone at once. A moment of horrorfied silence was followed by loud moanings and complaints.  
  
Jesse had just woken up out of his feverish sleep. Wondering where he was, he rubbed his face and tried to focus something, but the cold sweat streamed into his eyes, everything appeared through a layer of water.He backed up on his elbows and listened into the darkness of his room. Nothing...not even...."Oh no, please..", he muttered as he sank back onto his pillow.  
  
Obviously the air-conditioner had just broke.  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve walked along the halls of the security wing of the prison at the outskirts of LA. The ride there had been another trip through the hell, literally, traffic jam after traffic jam, passengers who were roaste in their cars, Steve had stopped to count the men who were replacing the splitted tires with new ones at the hard shoulder.  
  
A stocky security man guarded the detective through the grey corridors, the stones had cracks in some places, the heat in summers and coldness in winters had left their traces, an insulation was virtually not there.  
  
The recreation room was a complete chaos. Fallen furniture, a broken TV set and blood everywhere. The body was still on the floor, his position was already marked with white tapes.  
  
Blood covered his face, he was a white man, late thirties probably. He was rather unshaved and thin, long strands of greasy hair hang down from his angular skull.  
  
Steve bent down to him. The skin of the corps had still its normal color, obviously he wasn't dead for long, yet.  
  
"We had problems with some inmates", said the stocky guard and rubbed his moustache, "one of the guys from Block D flipped out and knocked him out with a chair. We have about one dozen witnesses. Will spare you lots of trouble, officer!" The security man grinned smugly.  
  
"Leutenant!", corrected Steve dryly and turned up his nose. The man smelled strongly of sweat. Steve decided not to give him the tip to have shower as soon as possible, but nodded in the direction of the corp that was now laid onto a stretcher and wheeled away.  
  
"Who is he?"  
  
"You will have to ask the boss of this block and that's not me. I'm only a little employee who does his job, the hard work to watch these bastards every day that they don't kill each other...", answered the officer bitterly and glared at Steve as though it was whose fault that he had never had the chance to push his career foward.  
  
Steve rolled with his eyes. Not only that he worried sick about Jesse, now he also had to play the psychatrist for some security guys with inferiority complexes. "You know anything about that man?!", he asked harshly.  
  
The officer shrugged unimpressedly. "He introduced himself to me as Pete. One of the few nice guys here. Always polite. Has never talked much....and he liked peppermint drops", he added at last and smiled proudly.  
  
Steve nodded. He had to get away from this dreadful stench. So he headed off after asking an officer to find out the name of the dead person and report him straightly. Leaning back in the burning hot seat of his Ford for a moment Steve sorted his mind. The case was easy, they had a victim, they had a killer, they had witnesses.  
  
The only thing that was nagging him was where he had seen the face of the murdered man before. It had probably been years ago, but when? He couldn't assign the face. Steve scratched his arm and winced. He had totally forgotten his sun burn. Damn heat!  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark had just finished his rounds when Steve arrived at the hospital and asked for his dad at the reception. "Here I am, son!", called Mark, leaving the elevator. Steve turned around and saw his father standing in front of him. He looked worn-out, tired and a bit sad. Steve didn't have to guess. "How's Jesse?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "Please don't ask, I feel bad enough anyway. We still don't have a blood analysis, but we're doing what we can. I just can't fight the feeling that that isn't enough." Not even noticing his anger, he hit his wrist onto the reception desk.  
  
Steve took note of it and he could understand his father. Mark was good doctor, that was even understated, he was definetly one of the bests. Knowing that he couldn't help some one was one of the things he never had really learned to accept.  
  
Steve remembered how his dad had acted after Katherine, his mother and Mark's wife had died. The experience that he couldn't help one of the persons he loved most, had taken ages for Mark to get over it. He had never been satisfied with himself as a doctor, always been raring to go and always, and, hell, he still was, stubborn. Helplessness was something he couldn't deal with. At least not very well.  
  
"Have you seen Amanda anywhere?", Steve asked. Something was still bothering him and he had just decided to pursue an impulse.  
  
"She's staying with Jesse. I only had to finish my rounds, I'm going back there now."  
  
Steve thought that now was probably the right time to tell his dad something. "Dad, could...could you give me something against my sun burn?" He grinned sheepishly as he lifted his arm.  
  
"My God, Steve that looks awful, since when have you got it?" There was it! The look, the look in his fathers eyes. Steve sighed. He felt like six years old. "Dad, please! Just give me some cooling ointment and let's leave it then!", he pleaded.  
  
Mark chuckled. His son was really one of the worst patients he'd ever seen. "What do you want Amanda to do? The autopsy on that prisoner?" Maybe it was good to change the topic, Mark thought, while searching for some ointment in one of the shelfs,.  
  
Steve nodded. "Everything points on a fracture on the head, but..." He didn't go on.  
  
His father lay the ointment on Steve's red arm, smiling suspicously at him. "But what?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "Dunno! Just havin' a strange feeling about it. What's so funny?"  
  
Mark couldn't help but giggling. "You're becoming more and more similar to me!"  
  
"Well, I could've hit it worse, couldn't I ?", Steve replied friendly.  
  
Mark pulled up his eyebrows. "I hope so, son, I hope so!" And he felt a bit proud.  
  
That happy atmosphere shouldn't last for a long time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
WELL, URM, NOT EXACTLY SOMETHIN' THAT WAS WORTH WAITING FOR. BUT I'LL GET THE DIRECTION (and hopefully a new English dictionary, soon,lol)...SOMEWHEN! LOL :-) THANX FOR THE REVIEWS! C YA, BYEEEEEEE 


	4. Discoveries

Her hand was cold. Probably it had normal body temperature, but that was enough for him. Opening his eyes Jesse saw someone sitting at his bedside and smiled wearily. "Hi Amanda", he croaked, realizing that he wasn't able to do anything else. His throat felt as though he had swallowed a gravel pit.  
  
"Hey", she said softly, "how are you?"  
  
He grinned wryly. "Actually I had hoped you could tell me as for me I guess that I'm slowly gettin' cooked from inside."  
  
'Won't tell you how damn right you are!', she thought sadly, caressing his cheek. "Don't worry Jess, everything is ok. You'll be fine soon." She had never before lied so cheaply.  
  
He gave her an indignant, almost hurt look, which was even more melting than usual. "C'mon, Amanda, do ya really think I'm that dump?"  
  
She shook her head and bit on her lip. No, he wasn't dump, he was one of the smartest people she'd ever known. He was friendly, he was kind, he was funny, he was sensitive and he was...her friend. Hardly able to avoid it, she felt tears whelming up in her. One of it rolled over her cheek, but she wiped it away immediatly, hoping that he hadn't seen anything.  
  
But Jesse had seen enough crying people in his life to know if someone was bursting into tears. His view was blurred, but he could still recognise her slightly quivering contours and he heard her sobbing suppressingly, obviously she didn't want him to notice anything.  
  
Not having suspected that it would cost him so much strain, he moved his fingers and after a few seconds he touched her hand. She starred at him in silent astonishment that even increased as he whispered: "Thank you!"  
  
She sniffed one more time, then called herself to order and let out a self- tormenting laugh. "For what? For sitting here and howling? For not being able to control my emotions? Or for forgetting that you probably don't need someone to tell you what's wrong and making you feel as though I don't even know you're a capable doctor?"  
  
Jesse patiently waited until her little speech was over. "No", he started and was suddenly interrupted by a bad cough, "for...", he stopped and chuckled shyly, "for making me feel that someone cares about me."  
  
Now she closed hers around his hand and realising again how dreadfully hot it was, she squeezed it tightly. She didn't know how long they had been sitting there in silence. Jesse started to breath slower and calmer and drifted back to sleep.  
  
When the door opened a crack and Mark peered askingly through it, Amanda indicated him to stay outside because she didn't want Jesse to be woken up again and then she followed Mark.  
  
"Hey, what is it?", she enquired. The way he looked at her told her that the sight of her had to be terrible, she wiped her hand once over her face and as she scrutinized her fingers she saw make-up, which had been washed from her eyes, sticking on them.  
  
"Steve needs an autopsy report about that guy who was knocked down in prison", Mark informed her.  
  
Steve was nowhere to see, he had just got a phone call and had walked around a corner over to one of the windows to have a better receiving.  
  
Amanda nodded. "No problem, let's go!"  
  
She was already about to leave when Mark grabbed her arm gently. "You sure you're ok?"  
  
She nodded, but it wasn't as confident as the last time. "I guess I'm ok. Just worried. Oh Mark, I'm awfully worried!" By her last words she seemed to break down, but got herself under control rather quickly. She lifted her head and looked at her old friend. "I'll go! You wanna join me?"  
  
He knew she didn't want to be alone. And he didn't either. So they headed together for the pathology lab.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Peter Berrow!", mumbled Steve while Amanda pulled back the covers of the corp and started with the examination. "Why do I think that I should know this name?"  
  
Peeking over Amanda's shoulder, Mark gulped and also Amanda suddenly froze. They knew this man! And both of them exactly remembered the time they had met him.  
  
Mark took a deep breath. "Steve, you remember the time when Jesse and I got infected with a mutated small pox virus?"  
  
"How could I forget that?! Jesse nearly died of it and also you were not in the best condition when we had finally found the antidote!" Steve inwardly shuddered in the memory of this horrible day. The time Amanda and he had spent to follow senseless traces to find the stolen antidote, knowing that they hadn't much time left.  
  
When Steve had pointed his gun at the man who stood in his garage, injecting himself this damn serum, which his dad and Jesse needed so urgently, he had really considered if he should pull the trigger. He almost had. Almost.  
  
The man had watched him, his small cold eyes had pierced Steve, not even a spark of guilt had been in them. And suddenly Steve could remember him The man on the autopsy table was no one else than the man whom he had really wanted to see dying years ago.  
  
The three of them stared at each other and didn't really know what to think.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't believe that. That can't be a coincidence!", Mark paced around in the doctor's lounge, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He actually didn't want to drink it now, but wait 'till it was cold. It was late afternoon, but still terribly hot outside and the air conditioner still made no move to work again.  
  
They could hear the mechanics cursing in the halls. Normally Mark hated cold coffee, but more he hated only to sit there, wondering what would happen next. Jesse's condition had become even more serious, his fever had increased and Mark in secret wondered how long he was able to battle that illness, whatever it was.  
  
"Mark", started Amanda calmingly, "those things happen. There is not always a link or a connection between two events. Though I agree with you, it's really weird."  
  
Steve got up, shaking his head. "I don't know, guys, my feeling tells me that there is something foul..."  
  
"You are right, leutenant, there is something foul..." Jen Andrews was standing in the doorway, holding two files in her hand. The gang hadn't noticed her and they didn't know how long she had been listening. It didn't matter anyway.  
  
"I have the results", she lifted her hand with the files in them. While using these as a fan, she walked over to the table and sank onto a chair, sighing absent-minded. What she was up to wasn't easy for her. Not at all.  
  
"This is the file with the results of Peter Berrow's blood examination." She handed it out to Amanda, who opened it and quickly read the notes on the front paper. "Peter Berrow's blood was diluted?!" She confusedly starred at the young Head of the Laboratory who nodded agreeingly.  
  
"But why? I mean he had no problems with..."  
  
"You are right, but some one administered him anticoagulants. We just don't know how."  
  
"That means Peter Berrow was actually murdered by someone else?" Steve didn't get much of the profession's stuff, but he clearly understood what they were talking about, though.  
  
Jen shrugged. "More or less. His blood was strongly diluted, even a little cut would have been enough to kill him, let alone a chair onto the head." She took a deep breath. The more uncomfortable part of the news was still in the offing.  
  
Mark seemed to read her thoughts. "What is in the other file?" He didn't believe that he really wanted to know.  
  
The look she throw to him acknowledged his concerns. "These are the results of Jesse's blood analysis. We haven't found any toxic liquids, acids or something like that." She hung her head.  
  
"Isn't that good?", asked Steve. The strange feeling in his stomach was stronger than before. He had also felt it when he had asked his dad if Jesse...  
  
"I wish it would be, Steve, I really wish, but no. Fact is that there is something in Jesse's blood that makes the immunity system fight the blood corpuscles. You could say that the body is fighting against the own troops. That's causing the fever and I'm sure it's painful. But that's not the biggest problem..." She hardly could admitt it. She normally had answers for every question.  
  
"There is no antidote...", she continued, grimacing depressedly.  
  
A few seconds they sat just there. Mark couldn't even remember if he had breathed during this time. Amanda felt her blood pounding in her head. And she had told Jesse everything would be fine.  
  
"But why?..." Steve looked completely stunned as he got up and build up in front of Jen. "There must be an antidote. And if you don't know it, you'll have to find it! My gosh, that's your job!!", he yelled.  
  
Dr. Andrews was suddenly very interested in her shoes. "It's unfortunately not that easy, Sloan! We can hardly figure out what the substance consists of. The guys in the laboratory are still working on it. I haven't seen anything like this before and I can't just play Harry Potter and mix some things together and hope they help."  
  
"But isn't there any way we could get an antidote...quickly?" Quickly, yeah, that was Mark's main concern. Jesse could hold out a lot, Mark knew that, but not for an eternity. That was impossible for any human being.  
  
Jen looked the old doctor straightly into the eyes. These eyes were so worried, but there was still a spark of hope in them.  
  
"My suggestion would be to find the guy who administered Jesse this stuff and ask him!" Now it was out.  
  
"WHAT?!?!" The three cried out so loudly that the nurses in the hallway jumped almost one feet into the air.  
  
Jen Andrews looked like a sheep that was leaded to the slaughter. Mark felt a bit guilty for shouting at her without waiting for an answer. After all she couldn't do anything about the reality.  
  
But she didn't seem to be mad. She only pressed her lips together, then opened her mouth and started a sentence, hesitated and started again. "It's virtually impossible that could have got this illness in a 'normal' way. It somehow else got into his blood system. Considering the high dose that is in his body, I'd think that he ate or drank something that contented that poison..."  
  
"Then it's easy!", said Steve truimphingly. The detective in him saw a chance to help his friend. "If you know how long it'd last till the poison has an effect, we'll know what he ate and..."  
  
"The poison has an effect after about four or five hours. That's something I know definatetly. So if we count back from the time Jesse showed first symptoms..." Jen had just decided to speak as long as she was able to. She knew what no one else knew. And she was quite certain about that.  
  
"The conference!" Amanda muttered, thinking concentratedly.  
  
"Yeah..." Mark mumbled grimly. He had understood Jen. Looking at her told him that he was right. He took a deep breath. "The water! I gave Jesse my glass of water because there wasn't one for him..."  
  
Steve and Amanda suddenly looked up. Mark was as pale as chalk and his fingers were clenched thightly. The feeling he had at the moment couldn't be described with words. Shock, anger, guilt...he didn't know it.  
  
Steve could see it in his father's eyes. Somehow he was sure about what it meant, though he couldn't really figure out what it was. Mark horrorfiedly starred at his son. "I should be the one laying there, Steve. Not Jesse! It should be me!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
******Hi again! I know what you are thinking, but I promise, the story is really starting now. I just needed a bit of a run up! (Well, if you can call four chapters 'a bit') I'm sorry if I didn't get these medicine terms right, but try to write something like that with an ordinary Langenscheidt! lol  
  
As I have loads of good friends in England and the topic came to my mind while reading some reviews of stories here, I wanna wish all British guys and everyone else, who needs it, good luck for their exams! Ich drück' euch die Daumen! ;-) ******** 


	5. Reunions

I'm really sorry that it took these ages to get this part open. Enjoy though!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve cranked down the car window and backed up his elbow on the frame. The red lights in front of him stood still. Nothing moved, which was not really an unusual shape on the streets of LA. It often drove him nuts. The sounds of the different horns, the shouting people, the disorganised police men, who tried to bring some order into the endlessly long lines of motor vehicles.  
  
The cars rolled fowards, inch for inch, Steve guessed that turtels were faster. He felt like biting into the wheel. His right hand was pressed against it, his whole body was tensed, each of his breaths escaped as though it was steam from a hot kettle. "You're driving a car, not a telephone booth, a car!", he mumbled as the Mercedes in front of him made a senseless emergency break after rolling only a few feet forward.  
  
Amanda put her hand onto his knee, hoping to calm him down a little. She knew Steve's tempestuous character, which could go out of control rather quickly, especially in personal cases. She couldn't hold it against him.  
  
Right now she was quite furious as well. But she still could think clearly and that was the reason why she had insisted to join him. She really trusted him, hell, if there was someone, in whose hands she would give her life to be protected, it was Steve. But if there was someone she would warn a gangster of, it was Steve in rage.  
  
Mark had stayed at the hospital. He was still shocked, less about the fact that someone had tried to kill him, but more because Jesse was the one who had to carry the can now. Steve had wanted to send an officer to the hospital, but Mark didn't want him to do so. Having uniformend people around, somehow made him nervous, at least in this case. He had insisted that Amanda and Steve should try to find the killer, as soon as possible. Therefore they had agreed to start with the only connection the still knew...  
  
  
  
  
  
They finally stopped in front of a big building, an ugly concrete block, which appeared even more dangerously in the darkness than Amanda and Steve remembered it. Only the plate at the front door was not the same any more. The 'Lynd Science' shield had disappeared, instead of it some golden letters read now 'Worth Lenses'.  
  
As they entered the hall, Amanda tapped Steve's arm and swayed her head in the direction of a tall woman with brown hair. She was correctly dressed and had an erect posture, was talking to a secretary and noticed neither the leutenant nor the pathologist. "She is it, isn't she?" Steve was still not sure, but Amanda, whose memory for people was excellent, nodded positiv. Never ever she'd forget that face.  
  
Steve's eyes narrowed. "Well, what do you know! Hadn't even recognised her without broomstick and wand!" Then he took his police ID out of his pocket and together they walked over to the woman. "Mrs Gale Wentworth?"  
  
She turned around and threw them a smile that was so artificial that Amanda thought Mrs Wentworth had convulsions around her mouth. "That's me, what can I do for you?" But when she saw Steve glaring down at her, even she wasn't able to smile any more.  
  
Steve showed his ID, though he was certain that this wasn't necessary. He knew that if looks had killed, he would have hit the floor immediately. "You still remember us?" he asked provokingly.  
  
Gale Wentworth indicated them to follow her and they walked over to a small group of palms in tasteless pots. She frowned at him angrily. "Leutenant, what a big surprise! What's been leading you here?" she brattled.  
  
"To be honest: a small problem with your ex-employees!" Steve replied sharply.  
  
"What are you meaning?" Gale's attempts to look extraordinarly stupidly failed badly.  
  
"Peter Berrow was murdered!" Amanda informed her, folding her arms over her chest.  
  
"Who?" Mrs Wentworth wasn't exactly what one would call co-operative.  
  
After the discovery of the RZ1765, a mutated small pox virus, which had a deadly effect within a few hours, the firm Lynd Science had had the chance to sell it for millions of Dollars and to save itself from bancruptcy. But then these people had put their oar in. Two innocent persons had been infected, as far as Gale knew, one them had almost died. She didn't actually feel sorry for him. Curiousity was deadly...and willingness to help as well. But Lynd Science was ruined and had it cost years to develope a new firm. And now these people were coming again. No! She wouldn't risk that they destroyed her life again!  
  
Steve had rarely ever felt like slapping a woman into her face, but Gale Wentworth was an exception. She didn't want to talk, she hated him too much and he hated her as well. Her icy look, her thin lips, her arrogant behaviour. Steve felt the anger increasing in his body. There were only a few seconds left until it would have reached his hands and hell knew what he'd do then. He had to think. There had to be a way to make that woman talk and violence was certainly not the right one.  
  
He made one step forward, Gale could see his eyes sparkeling furiously. "Listen to me, Mrs Wentworth, you know whom we're talking about! Peter Berrow produced a mutated small pox virus, which almost killed my dad and my best friend, then he stole it and murdered his partner Ray de Nino. He was sent to prison and now he's dead. Murederd. We need information. Files. Whatever you know!" He had almost shouted at her. The people in the entrance hall had turned around and stared shockedly at the scene.  
  
Gale shrugged. She was getting weaker. But still her lips were closed.  
  
'Plan B', thought Steve. "You have a pretty nice life right now, haven't you?" He tried to choose his words as pointed as possible.  
  
She shrugged again. "I'm the head of this firm. We produce contact lenses!"  
  
"Contact lenses!" hissed Steve and grinned almost amusedly. "So what do ya think...what would the people say if they knew that the woman who has the fingers on their contact lenses, has once had good connections to some small, deadly microbes? Would be a rather good publicity, don't you think?"  
  
Gale glared at him and answered cool:"That's extortion, leutenant! And that's illegal as far as I know. But I'm sure I don't have to throw light on the constitution for you. So if you'd excuse me, please..." She was up to turn around, but Steve and Amanda blocked her way.  
  
"I'm not forcing you to anything, Mrs Wentworth! I'm just reminding you of the fact that the press has been very gentle to you once you had created that nice virus. That's not gonna happen a second time to you! My friend is seriously ill, Peter Berrow has been murdered and you are obstructing the justice!" Steve was shouting again, his eyes sparkled enragedly.  
  
Gale's lip trembled, you could see that she was boiling inwardly and that was certainly not a results of the heat. She slowly closed her eyes and snorted. "You won leutenant Sloan! You will get your files when you promise me never to turn up here again."  
  
Steve's eyes narrowed. "You can count on that!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"And what are we going to do now?" asked Amanda after she and Steve had left the a very disappointed Gale Wentworth, who was forced to explain a lot of rich investors with an awful German accent why the man with the police bandage had yelled something about a virus.  
  
"We are going to let the guards in prison have a look at these files. If we are right and the murderer of Peter Berrow and the man who tried to kill dad are one and the same person, he must have visited the prison and administered Berrow anticoagulants." Steve sounded the horn of his car several times, they were stuck in a traffic jam again.  
  
"Steve, it's the security wing of a prison. You can just walk in and say 'Hi, I just want to murder one of your inmates if you are ok with it.' " Amanda was probably right, that was absolutely impossible. But somewhere they had to start. After all she didn't have a better idea.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Officer, what can I do for you?" They were greeted by Steve's new 'friend', the stocky guard with this arbitrary grin.  
  
"Leutenant!" He was corrected again and again he didn't care much about it.  
  
"Actually you could help us. Look at these pics and tell me if you know anybody!" Steve threw a restless glance at his wristwatch and realised how damn unpatient he was. He would find the guy who had done that to Jesse and who tried to do something to his dad, and once he would find him, he would kill him or worse if that was possible.  
  
"Ts ts ts, where are your manners leutenant? I'm waiting for the magic word!" The guard smiled smoothly and his thick lips uncovered a chain of small shining teeth.  
  
Amanda saw Steve's body tensing up and grabbed his wrist quickly. She knew that, if Steve was really up to beat this man, she wouldn't be able to hold him back, but she was sure that he'd calm down once he realised what he was up to do. She knew Steve too well and he would never have done something stupid, not at all if his dad's and Jesse's life probably depended on it.  
  
"Please!", mumbled Steve through gritted teeth.  
  
The guard, his name was O'Neil by the way, looked through the files as though he had at least deserved a nobel price for what he was doing. "No...no...no", he muttered, scrutinisizing the pictures the people in the files. But suddenly he frowned. "Hey, I know this guy!"  
  
Amanda and Steve curiously looked over O'Neils shoulder to find out what he had discovered. Steve shook his head in disbelieve. He had forgotten to take Ray de Nino's file away. Ray de Nino had been a further member of the RZ1765 developement team and had been murdered by Peter Berrow because he was willing to give the virus and its serum back once he had stolen it. The had cost him his life. And that fact made it also impossible for him to appear in a prison or anywhere else.  
  
"Are you sure?" Steve asked very confusedly.  
  
O'Neill glared at him as if he had been accused of a murder himself. "Of course I am! Whom do you think do I know from, that Pete liked peppermint drops. He always brought him some."  
  
Steve had to admitt that he hadn't listened very properly when he was told that thing about the peppermint drops. But now that he thought about it....anticoagulants were hadn't any kind taste, therefore it was easy to give some of them into other food....like peppermint drops. Nevertheless he wanted to contradict that the man, who had just been identified by O'Neil was DEAD, but Amanda had just thrown a closer look at the photograph of Ray de Nino and could hardly suppress a loud scream. "Steve, we've gotta go!"  
  
"What, why?" Steve had to sort his mind and slowly got the feeling that one wouldn't let him time to do so.  
  
Amanda just pulled on his arm like small child and dragged him to the exit. "I'll explain it to you on our way back to the hospital, come on!"  
  
"Ohk, if you think so, then...", Steve followed her more or less voluntarily, then he turned around and waved the guard "Thanks, you've been a big help!...though I still don't know why..." he added quietly, but then he was pushed by Amanda again.  
  
He became more and more worried, seeing the anxiety in her eyes.  
  
"Maybe Mark is in danger and Jesse as well! We've gotta hurry up!"  
  
  
  
  
  
What has Amanda discovered? We'll get to know soon!  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~ Hey there! I promise that the next chapter will...well...will be a bit more consisting. Sorry again that you had to wait so long for this part, but I was quite busy with school (Do you know that English teachers are very disappointed when you write in their lessons, even if it's English?!) and...urm...watching football (soccer) world cup. :-S  
  
Hehe, never mind, please R&R to tell me if I must feel guilty. No, nooo, that was joke, please be kind. ;-) 


	6. Danger

Sorry this whole story developement got a bit messy. I'm trying it again with the 6th chapter. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark sadly looked down at the small figure in the hospital bed. Jesse was as pale as chalk, his face and body were covered with a thin film of sweat and he breathed as though a pile of stones was laying on his chest. His blonde hair was wet and his shirt, which was practically stuck on his burning hot body, as well.  
  
Mark felt also rather sick, but for other reasons than his young friend, it was a sickness, which was caused by feelings of guilt and anger about how someone was able to this to a human being. And somehow it was also his fault. Jesse was completely innocent.  
  
Mark got up from the uncomfortable chair and settled down at the edge of the bed. Scrutinisizing the young resident, he suddenly realised how much he felt for this man. It was as though his own son was laying there. Checking on Jesse's pulse, which was weak and racing, Mark saw some small scars on the inside of his arm. They weren't elongated like those you get from cuts, but little circles, which looked a bit like stings, which one had scratched too often. For someone who didn't know that they were there, they were not to recognise, but Mark knew that they were and how Jesse had got them. The deadly red marks from then had left their traces.  
  
Mark sighed deeply. "That's all my fault!" he muttered and added, shaking his head "And I don't even know what I've done!" That's was actually the most awful thing about this. Mark only knew that someone had wanted to punish him, but he had no idea for what. He only knew that it should be him in that bed, not his friend. He felt so damn guilty. How often had he dragged his friends and his son into dangerous situations. For what? To meddle in things, just to proof that he was smarter than everyone else? Was such a witess hobby really worth risking the life of the people who meant the world to him?  
  
Jesse groaned and mumbled something in his drugged sleep. Probably he was fantasizing.  
  
Mark didn't believe that Jesse was able to hear him, but he had to tell him something. "I'm sorry, really, Jess. Please don't give up. You're probably going through the hell, but I know you're gonna make it." He was silent for moment and watched Jesse, who didn't react in any way. Each of his breaths seemed to be taken with his whole remaining strength.  
  
A flash illuminated the room for a few seconds with a scaring blue light and shortly after that the noises of thunders could be heard from far away. Mark and Jesse both winced at the first bang. Jesse curled up under his covers and started to shiver. Maybe he was having a nightmare, at least he was sweating more than ever.  
  
Mark stroked him. "It's ok, Jess, calm down, I'm right here..." Then Mark paused for a moment and looked down to the floor. Something was nagging him and he wanted Jesse to hear it. Mark had tried to repress this odd feeling but deep inside he knew that, if Jesse would...would die...he would regret that he had never said this to him. He wasn't sure how much Jesse was able to understand in his delirious condition, it was certainly not much, but he had to talk to him. Jesse was much calmer now, almost a bit too calm, Mark assumed that he was getting weaker. That illness was slowly gaining the upper hand.  
  
"When Alex rushed into this damn conference to tell me that something was wrong, I firstly thought that Steve had been hurt. Then I was told that it was you and...god, seeing you on the couch, seeing you now...that hurts. It is as though my own flesh and blood would be laying there. I know that I am not your dad and that you are not my son, but you mean the same to me. And I know that you are like a brother to Steve, he doesn't show it, but he loves you very much. You and Steve and Amanda and I, we're a team, you can't let us down..."  
  
Mark couldn't speak furtherly. He didn't want to start crying, but he was very close to it.  
  
Suddenly Jesse opened his eyes for a moment and looked at Mark. His eyes were painful and a little glazed, but Mark believed to see a bit of amusement in them. "That was said nicely...", croaked Jesse and coughed.  
  
"How...how long have you been listening?", Mark asked, a bit surprised.  
  
Jesse grinned weakly. "Long enough to make you feel considerably emberassed..."  
  
Mark chuckled. "Yeah, but I meant what I said..."  
  
Jesse nodded. "I know...thanks!" He watched Mark for a moment. This man had always been there for him, always listened to him, always paid attention to him, thought that was certainly not his duty. Jesse had never told that anybody, but secretly he had always felt a bit ashamed because Mark had injected himself Jesse's blood in order to find an serum against that smallpox virus. He hadn't known Mark really well at that time. They had been friends and colleagues, of course, but was that enough of a reason to risk your life for the other one? What if Mark had also died?! Jesse had often wondered if his own life would have really been worth that. But he hadn't wanted to ask. He sensed that this was somehow silly.  
  
"You should go home, Mark. You are tired and knackered. You don't need to worry about me!"  
  
Mark shook his head sternly. "But I do, Jess! And still I'm in a much better condition than you are, my friend, and if you think I will just sit at home and wait for better weather, you've erred. But I'll take the offer and fetch some coffee for myself." He smiled as he got up.  
  
"I promise I won't run away!" replied Jesse and tried to laugh. But every movement was an anguish for him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As Mark stepped out into the dark hall, he almost struggled with the tears. Jesse was still so young. He was a capable doctor and a honest man, and he was tough. What he missed in respects of height and muscles, added to his stubborness and his fighting spirit. Mark really wished he could trade places with him at the moment.  
  
Suddenly Mark heard the clicking of a trigger behind his back. "Dr Sloan, how are you?" said a low voice and by that Mark could feel the barrel of a gun, which got against his spine. He didn't answer the obviously rhethorically meant question, but stood completely motionless.  
  
No one passed by, it was already late, most of the staff was napping somewhere or doing duty at the receptions of the different units in the hospital. Mark gulped. "What do you want?" asked he his stalker.  
  
"To the emergency exit!" commaded the other one.  
  
Mark slowly walked to the door at the end of the corridor. He didn't dare to turn around. Who was this? And what did he want from him? As Mark opened the door, he wanted to go downstairs, but the man with gun leaded him into the other direction. Mark could hear his nasty voice. "To the roof, doc. Always upwards!"  
  
  
  
  
  
****Please clap your hands together, I got it: motionless!!! :-) Well, my little study is getting bigger and bigger: I know for sure that my maths teacher, my German teacher and my Latin teacher definetly don't like DM. Or maybe they just don't like it if I pay more attention to my spiral note pad than to their very interesting * yawn * lessons. Never mind, please review, though I know that this is quite short! :-s 


	7. Finale

It was raining slightly when Mark opened the door to the top of the building and walked out carefully. It was already very dark and he didn't want to fall on the slippery layer. The beginnig of a thunderstorm had almost washed away the heat of the last days and replaced it by a sharp wet wind. Mark felt the little drops of rain whirling around him, some of them pearled onto his face and the storm was blowing through his clothes. But even though it was comparatively cold now, Mark felt burning hot. He had no idea what that man wanted from him, but was sure that it wasn't anything he would like.  
  
"Stop!" said his kidnapper and Mark stopped immediatly. He was really scared.  
  
Closing his eyes for a moment and breathing heavily, he finally could overcome himself and asked slowly:"May I turn around?"  
  
"If you want to...ok with me!" said an amused voice a few feet behind him.  
  
Mark turned around, very slowly and cautiously, he didn't want his attacker to get the feeling that he was planning something and end up with a bullett in his back. As he could face the man, who was pointing a gun at him, he was completely stunned. He had guessed that he knew that man from somewhere, but earlier he had thought that it was just an illusion. It was the man who had smiled at him in the hall, as he had been wandering along the corridors together with Amanda. "You?!" slipped it out of Mark's mouth.  
  
"Yes, me, Dr Sloan! Do you remember me?"  
  
Mark did indeed. But it couldn't be true. Ray de Nino was dead. He couldn't be standing there and threaten to kill him.  
  
"I had hoped that you would like my little surprise!" The other man's narrowed evily. Then he laughed out sarcastically. "Where are my manners? Haven't I introduced myself? I am John de Nino. My appereance may remind you of my brother Ray."  
  
The similarity was amazing. John looked exactly like the man Mark remembered as Ray de Nino. "Why are you here, John?" Mark tried to stay calm, in all the years he had worked for the police, he had learned that this was sometimes your only chance to stay alive.  
  
John looked down for a moment. Then he sloped his head and reached out his hand. "Let's go for a little walk!" He made an inviting gesture and Mark didn't have the courage not to follow him. The two man looked more like old friends as they strolled over to the edge of the roof. Small drops were whizzing around them and made it hard for each of them to open their eyes properly.  
  
At the edge they stopped and stared down. Hundreds of feet under them the Los Angeles night traffic was rushing by. Thousands of small lamps, red and white, were wandering away from downtown and along the Santa Monica Boulevard, then they spread into different directions, some to the ocean, some to the valleys. If he hadn't felt his heart beating in his throat, Mark would probabyl have liked that sight. But with a man, who had a gun in his hand and seemed to be willing to use it, Mark wasn't in the mood to watch the nice city panorama.  
  
"I love this city..." The silence was finally broken by a sad remark from John. He looked at Mark and smiled almost sheepishly. "All the dreams, the glory, the happiness that are hidden in it. Ray has never had the chance to see that. He always worked and then...", he shrugged,"...you know what happened then." "He was stabbed by Peter Berrow", added Mark and dared to ask:"But what do I have to do with it?"  
  
Glaring at him, John's dark eyes sparkled angrily. "You're asking me what you have to do with it?!", he mumbled calmly. Then he grimaced and shouted into the wet night:"You heard that?! He is really asking me that!!"  
  
'This man is completely mad', Mark thought, but considered that this could be his chance. Maybe he could find out something. John didn't want to see him dying immediatly, he more likely seemed to want to tell Mark something. Maybe it was possible to waste time, to convince him to give up...Mark suddenly realised that he was lost. No one knew that he was up here and it would take ages till someone would start to look for him. He had to keep John talking, somehow.  
  
"My brother didn't want anybody to die!! He was really sorry for what happened to your friend and to you. He didn't deserve it to die....you were able to help him, to protect him, but you didn't! You only cared about yourself!", John screamed against the storm into Mark's face, which was -as his own- covered with rain drops.  
  
"I certainly didn't want your brother to die!", said Mark and he felt really a small pity for John. He understood his motives  
  
John laughed out sarcatically. "Oh yeah, you certainly didn't want to! But he is dead! Do you get what I'm saying: He is dead, damnit!"  
  
"Look, what do you want to tell me, what do you want me to say?", though he knew that this was quite provoking and risky, Mark wanted to try it. He was a dead walking man anyway.  
  
"I want you to listen! No one ever listens, but now you have to and you WILL listen!", John hissed.  
  
"OK, I will!", agreed Mark.  
  
As his kidnapper looked straightly into his face, Mark saw clearly the despair and the sadness in his eyes. And he believed to recognise that the rain on John's face had mixed up with some tears which were rolling down his cheek. The man with a gun in his hand was crying...John bit onto his lip and got closer to his original victim. But he wasn't sure who was the victim at the moment. "You know, I've heard what you said to your friend earlier. That he's like a son to you and like a brother to your son...you said that you are team...my brother and I were also a team. He was more than my brother, he was my soul brother...till he took that job which that damn Gale Wentworth offered to him. I told him that he was making a mistake...I mean...working with biological weapons...how long can you get through with that?! He...he didn't listen to me. He was just too naive...he was too good for this world. And then he was murdered by the people who had only used him."  
  
"That was hard, was it?", asked Mark, sounding -as he hoped- sympathsizing enough.  
  
John nodded."Yeah it was. I....I never got the chance to say him what he meant to me. Do you understand me doctor Sloan? I loved him and I could never tell him that. He was my brother...do you understand that, doc?"  
  
Mark was reminded of the situation earlier when he had sat at Jesse's bed side and had sensed that he had to tell him how he felt. He could understand John. But now John took a deep breath and lifted, shivering, his gun so that it pointed directly at Mark's heart.  
  
  
  
Inside his room Jesse wondered where Mark was. He had lost his feeling for time, but he was rather sure that Mark had been away long enough. Even if you went the whole way to the doctor lounge and back on your knees and backwards, you wouldn't need so much time. Jesse couldn't describe it, but he had the odd feeling that there was something not right at all. And it was certainly not his body temperature that caused that feeling. Maybe Mark was in danger... Slowly Jesse backed up and blinked once, twice. All he was seeing were multi-coloured stars in the darkness in front of his eyes. As Jesse swung his legs over the edge of his bed and touched the floor with his feet, it felt as though hundreds of small neels pierced his body and that got even worse as Jesse's tired, ill and delirious body got up. He was only able to make two steps, then Jesse sank onto his knees. The sweat was dropping from his face and a crushing nausea turned his stomach around.  
  
Jesse heard someone rushing in. Though that happened directly in front of him it seemed as though it was miles away. But at the moment he was about to fall and was expecting to hit the floor, he was caught by two strong arms, which helped him to get onto his feet and guarded him gently back to his bed. Jesse didn't want to go back there, he had to find Mark. He tried to fight against the strong arms that were holding him, convinced that these people would never understand what was going on and why he couldn't stay in bed.  
  
Steve felt his friend tensing up in his arms and was astonished how much strenght this little guy had still left after all he had been through, but he didn't want Jesse to get upset. "Jess..calm down...everything is alright!"  
  
Jesse had heard that fairly too often in the last twenty-four hours to believe it any more. He tried again to break free, but he couldn't loosen that grip around his arms, couldn't fight against the man who was leading him back to his bed and forced him onto the mattress. "Jesse...Jesse...listen, it's me, Steve! Damn, Jess, calm down finally!" Steve commanded friendly as he let Jesse lay down, rubbing his back gently. Jesse really got calmer, though less because of the fact he had been told to, but because he had heard Steve's voice.  
  
While Steve covered the shivering Jesse with a sheet, Amanda bent forward and asked quietly:"Jesse, what were you doing?"  
  
"Steve...", panted Jesse as he finally recognised his friend's contours.  
  
"What's up, Jess?" Steve didn't know if it was good for Jesse to talk so much, but he seemed to want to tell him something.  
  
"Your dad...", said Jesse and was terribly angry about the fact that he wasn't able to put it in a full sentence, he was too busy with fighting against the unconsciousness. "You gotta search him!"  
  
Steve looked at Amanda alarmedly and something inside him snapped. "You stay here! I'm gonna look for my dad!" With these words he pulled his gun out of the holster and hurried off. "And call the security!!" was the last thing Amanda heard from him.  
  
"As though that wouldn't have come to my mind as well!", she shouted after him sulkingly, then she grabbed the receiver of the telephone next to the bed, having one calming hand on Jesse's arm. This phase of fever seemed to be even more serious than the last ones and Jesse was hardly able to hold anything against it. Right now Amanda didn't know whom she should more worry about.  
  
Steve ran through the corridor, looking for any signs of his dad, and suddenly noticed the opened emergency exit. He didn't know what was telling him to go there, but seconds later he found himself, almost intuitively, running up the stairs. If his dad had taught him anything, then always to follow the feeling in your stomach.  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain had become heavier, it was whipping over the roofs and over Mark's and his kidnapper's head. The gun in John's hand was wet and everytime a flash split the dark sky in two, the water reflected its light and made the weapon gloss dangerously.  
  
"John...", Mark watched horrorfiedly how John's fingers trembled around the trigger,"do you really wanna do that?"  
  
"You can bet I want!", replied John."I did it with Peter and I'll do it to you. And maybe I'm gonna shoot your friend as well. In fact he wasn't supposed to die, so I should maybe do him that favor..."  
  
A loose sheet of the concrete clattered as Steve accidently stepped onto it. He winced and stood back, hoping that the persons in the dark hadn't heard anything. Coming closer, he recognised one of the men as his dad, the other one had turned his back to him, but from his gestures Steve assumed that he was holding a gun.  
  
Mark saw relievedly that a tall shadow was silently nearing from behind, but at that moment an idea flashed through his mind. That was dangerous and probably wouldn't even work out, but it was maybe the only chance that he had got left to save not only his but also Jesse's life. "How have you done that?", he asked his attacker and couldn't help but smiling a bit suspiciously.  
  
"Have done what?", John said confusedly, not knowing what to answer.  
  
"The poison...in the water, you know?"  
  
"Oh...that! You know...", an amused grin lightened up de Nino's face, "I wondered if you could figure it out!"  
  
Now it was Mark's turn to ask confusedly:"Figure out what?"  
  
"The composition of the serum! It is so easy, that I always gotta giggle thinking of it! Look at all those great doctors with their wonderful medical degrees, all of them had no idea!"  
  
Mark nodded agreeingly. Now he clearly saw his son standing behind John, but he didn't want to look at him and give John a hint by that way. As Steve made another step forward, Mark shook his head, praying that Steve would understand what he wanted to tell him.  
  
Steve understood. Not only his father's shaking head, but also the way he focused the other man told him that his dad was up to something and he knew Mark well enough to know when he should intervene and -and that was crucial right now- when not.  
  
"It is just the same!" said John and at that moment a flash illuminated the threatening black sky and along with it that weird scene on the top of the building of the Community General Hospital. Where there had been a burning thrilled heat inside him, Mark felt now one shudder following the other and really wished he could fold his arms over his chest to make himself feel at least a bit warmer and comfortable. But he was too frightened to move at all because there was still the possibility that de Nino would stop talking and concentrate on shooting him instead. He couldn't risk that. Jesse's life was now more or less depending on him.  
  
"How do you mean that?", Mark dared to ask, hoping that he wasn't pushing it too far.  
  
Steve had slowly got why his dad didn't want him to arrest de Nino straight away. But still he was scared, after all that guy was pointing a gun at Mark. What if the man lost control over himself and pulled the trigger? What if he would realize that Steve was standing behind him? As though he was paralysed, Steve remained behind de Nino's back, all these thoughts flashing through his mind within seconds and only his imagination was already enough to make his heart beating so loud that he thought de Nino would hear it.  
  
"It's just the same!" continued John in the meanwhile. "The same dose of the same stuff! Have you ever heard of those substances that cancel out each other, doctor?" he asked with distress, almost a bit reproachfully.  
  
Mark inwardly kicked himself. Sure, if he had only thought of that. But he had no time for blaming himself right now. He had what he wanted. Jen Andrews had informed him earlier that she knew the the composition of the poison. It had been a mixture of about everything he as a medic could imagine.  
  
However, it was time to end up this and save Jesse before something worse would happen.  
  
Obviously John de Nino had a similar thing in his mind as he said: "Ok, played enough, kids, now let's end up this."  
  
But to everyone's -which were actually only Mark and Steve- surprise he suddenly whirrled around and glared at Steve. For only one second Steve was so stunned that he couldn't react, but that was enough for his attacker to push him back hard.  
  
Steve slipped on the wet ground and fell onto his back. Still falling, he managed to kick the weapon out of John's hand with his left foot and lifted his own gun. He knew that he was definetely in a bad position, somehow he had to get back onto his feet before de Nino would reach for his gun, but how should he manage that? He couldn't use his gun now that he couldn't see anything, it was too dark. He struggled to get up and watched John, who kept an eye at the still slightly bemused police leutenant all the time, looking for his lost gun.  
  
By the time Steve was on his feet again, which was actually only some seconds after he had fallen, though it seemd to Mark and Steve like ages, John had found his gun and as he saw Steve aiming at him he quickly pointed it at Mark again. Mark believed to hear him mutter: "As though haven't known that!!", but had no time to think about the meaning of that sentence.  
  
The bang of a thunder could be heard in the background, Mark saw John wincing a little, cowered and dived out of the shooting line. Steve recognised his chance to overcome the killer in this confused moment and attacked him again, but he hadn't calculated that de Nino would be able to react fast enough to aim at him. He didn't even hear the shot, but he felt the piercing pain he knew very well in his right hand. But Steve wouldn't have been Steve if he hadn't been dogged enough to aim himself and land a well placed bullett. De Nino's normally so even face grimaced as he pressed his hand against the bleeding wound on his shoulder and let his gun fall to the floor.  
  
"You see, my dear, I'm left hand-handed!" hissed Steve into the shocked killer's ear, while twisting whose arms on whose back. "Little bastard!" he mumbled through gritted teeth and the hand cuffs clicked. John was dragged away by the finally arriving security, while Mark relievedly put his arm around Steve's shoulder.  
  
"Thank you, son! Is it bad?", he asked, examing Steve's wound.  
  
Steve shook his head. "Only a a flesh wound, I'll survive it!" Then he pulled back his hand from his fathers fingers. "We can sort out that later, you've gotta care for Jesse, he needs that stuff. Please dad, hurry, I just saw him, I've never seen him like this, he is in very bad condition!" The pleading tone his son's voice acknowledged Mark what he had said to Jesse earlier. Steve loved Jesse like a brother and didn't want to lose him. And Mark didn't either.  
  
He nodded and their eyes met in the cloudy stormy night. "I love you, son!"  
  
"I love you too, dad!"  
  
They headed towards the door, both, father and son, were completely soaked by the rain, but at the moment that didn't matter to them. Their friend was important now and they wouldn't waste one moment of valuable time, especially as they didn't know how much they had still left.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
******** Sorry, that you had to wait such a long time, but I was on holiday and you know, somewhen between eating, napping, eating and sleeping I suddenly realised that I had left my dictionary at home. I thank you for the reviews, I can't say how much they mean to me, I'm just happy that you like the story. Please review this chapter, too, I want to know what you think! THANKS!!!! ******** 


	8. Waiting

Alex stared with weary eyes into the microscope that was standing on one of the tables in the laboratory of the Community General Hospital. The people who usually worked here had gone home ages ago, closing time was long over.  
  
Behind Alex stood Mark and Amanda, also tired, exhausted and shocked by the days events, but that was not a reason for them to stop working right now. For about one hour they had been taking turns, making tests, mixing things together, always keeping an eye at the blood corpuscles under the lense as though those were about to run away as soon as they wouldn't get as much attention as they needed. After all Mark wouldn't even have been surprised by that, these little things didn't behave at all as they were supposed to.  
  
Never having really understood the motives of most of the murderers anyway, Mark could even less understand how someone was really able to produce something with such awful consequences without only wasting one small thought about the men who would have to bear it.  
  
Though it was long after midnight and a creeping mugginess was making the air around them heavy and numb, the three doctors were still concentrated, as well as possible considering the lack of sleep and the worries which fought a hard battle against their normally so keen minds.  
  
Amanda sometimes secretly felt like smashing everything onto the floor in a state of anger and frustration, thinking of the fact that everything that they were doing now might be senseless and not able to rescue Jesse anyway. She threw Mark a glance from time and his lookes told her that he was thinking exactly the same and at the same time knew that he shouldn't think that, wasn't allowed to think of giving it up. However, all this was much more complicated than they had expected.  
  
The worst that couldn't happen now was that they would make a mistake or need on the other hand too much time. Knowing that, the three of them became more and more restless.  
  
"That's it!", mumbled Mark finally, lifting an ampule with a liquid, the result of an hour of their whole efforts.  
  
"Sure?" asked Alex, still stunned by the sight that had offered to him under the microscope. He could read from Mark's eyes that the older doctor didn't dare to acknowledge what he had just said and really Mark didn't want to repeat it because he wasn't certain if he wasn't about to speak out the biggest lie of his life that he would once regret badly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As Mark entered Jesse's room, his heart was beating in his throat. He wasn't sure if that serum would help his friend and if it wasn't already too late.  
  
Jesse was very calm and his head was turned slightly to the side, the wet cloth had slid from his forehead. The practiced eye was able to see that he wasn't sleeping, but had already drifted into a deep unconcussiouness. Mark shook his head and took place next to the young man. At first he put one hand onto Jesse's forehead only to notice horrorfiedly that his fever had got higher again, then he checked Jesse's breathing and heartbeat. Both was hardly to feel, for a dreadful second Mark believed that there wasn't any pulse, but then he realised that it was just so weak that he needed more than one attempt to find it in the young doctor's sweaty neck.  
  
Mark injected Jesse the antigen, mentally cursing de Nino for everything that had happened. He had rarely ever felt such a big hatred for someone. Mark remembered the time on the roof, the short moment when he had sympathsized de Nino for everything he had been through. But what about the things Jesse had been through and, more important, would still have to go through? If there had still been some of that pity for John left in Mark's soul, it was totally gone now. Now that Mark replaced the moist cloth on Jesse's head and stroked his young friend's blonde hair, he was only angry.  
  
De Nino had been arrested, he would get a trial, he would get his punishment, but did all that help Jesse? No, Jesse was left to himself, again, he had to win that fight for his life on his own, a life that hadn't been to be put into that situation at all.  
  
"Now it depends on you, Jess!", said Mark, though he knew that this time there was definetly no chance that Jesse would be able to hear him. But maybe this sensible little guy was at least able to sense what Mark was telling him with such an ardour.  
  
Now they had to wait.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ouch!!!", cried Steve out and cursed. "Considering that you are a surgeon I've thought could do that a bit better!"  
  
"And considering that you are a cop I haven't thought that you would be such a dastard!" retorted Jen as she rammed the sterile neel into Steve's hand.  
  
"Doctor Andrews, you are insulting a civil servant!" replied Steve sulkingly as he winced because of the pain that was constantly dazing his hand.  
  
"And you are quarreling with woman who has the license to use a syringe on you filled with whatever she wants!"  
  
"Are you threatening me?!"  
  
"Depends on you and if you hold still finally or not!" said Jen and made a next attempt to fix the wound on Steve's hand properly. To her surprise and almost to her disappointment, he shut up. His blue eyes wandered through the examining room, his watchful look and the frowns over his temples held a heavy discomfort.  
  
"You are really worried, are you?", she asked and was astonished that her voice could sound so softly.  
  
"Why should I ?!" Steve mumbled sarcastically and frowned. "Because someone has almost killed my father or because my best friend is about to die of a terrible infection?! That's not a reason for worrying, is it?!" His eyes narrowed and Jen felt that, if he had been able to, he would have clenched his fingers in rage and she was glad that she was holding his hand in a tight grip that she wasn't up to loose as long as that wound wasn't taken care of. But she realised that she wasn't going to get anything out of him this way.  
  
"You are making it a little too easy for yourself with your sarcasm, don't you think?" When their eyes met after that question, it was as though hostile sparkles would spread all around them.  
  
"I think that it is not your buisness how I deal with my problems!" snapped Steve and if his hand hadn't hurt so badly he would probably have gone by now.  
  
"Actually....you are right!" she replied calmly, examining the thread she was going to fix his hand with.  
  
"Good...", he glared at her. What was this girl up to? 'She wants listen to you, you damn idiot!!', shouted someone in Steve's head, but he ignored that voice. The least he wanted to do now was to pour his heart out to someone who was only about as half as old as him and besides annoyed him with such impertinent questions. There was only one man Steve knew who could afford to do something like that and would always get an answer, though...Jesse.  
  
Steve sighed. He could feel that he was giving in to this voice. "Jess is my friend...", he started carefully. Jen looked up, in her eyes he believed to see some gloss of triumph, but maybe it was only imagined. "When I went into his room earlier and saw him in that terrible shape, I got that he was about to...god, I'm even afraid of only thinking of the possibility that that nightmare could be become true...My dad was already in danger and then I had Jesse there in my arms and I knew that...." Steve went quiet and looked away from Jen. He didn't want her to see that his eyes were becoming red.  
  
Jen had noticed it, though, but she only carried on sewing his wound.  
  
Steve didn't allow himself to let his emotions win the control over him, he had been used to do that for years. And after ages of experience Steve was doing a really good job. He would probably have forgotten to continue if Jen hadn't asked politely: "Knew what?"  
  
"That...I wasn't able to protect him..." Again Jen Andrews felt how his muscles cramped in his hand and she had quite a problem to aim the punctures properly without hurting him too much. Steve was a hard nut to crack. Both outside and inside.  
  
She sighed. "No one was able to, Steve! Call it destiny, but that whole mess was NOT predictable. And after all we have an antidote now..."  
  
"Of which nobody is sure if it'll work!" Steve threw his hands into the air in frustration and this time Jen couldn't prevent it in time. "Damnit!!" exclaimed her patient as he sank back on the consulting table. When he had calmed down finally she allowed herself one little last question. "Do you really believe it was your fault?"  
  
An almost unrecognizable sad smile flitted over his face. He shook his head. "Actually no, you are right, I couldn't have done anything about it, no one could. But that made me so angry....you know...I've failed once as a big brother, I don't want it to happen a second time!" As he looked into her sligtly stunned face, he wondered if he should regret to have admitted that, but only for a few seconds. He, though feeling a bit sheepish and even emberassed, was sure that telling her the truth hadn't been a mistake and she, though having neither an idea of Carol nor of the problems the Sloans had had with her, was now seeing everything a bit clearer than before.  
  
And, even if it was only a small image of it, she could recognise that tight bond between Steve, his father and his friends, which was actually more than a friendship, it seemed as though each of them had got a part of a family they had always wanted and also deserved, a place to turn to, even if the world had got you with the back against the wall.  
  
Impressed and also a little touched by the fact that some people could share such a great friendsship, Jen Andrews decided to tell Steve what she had been thinking for the past two days, which would maybe sound patheticly when it had been spoken out, but she was willing to take that risk.  
  
"You know...I haven't known Jesse for long..." she began, making the last prick on Steve's wound, "..not as long as you did at least. But you'll certainly agree with me when I say that he is a very capable doctor..."  
  
Steve shrugged almost outragedly. "Capable?! He is the best!" and then he added a bit more reservedly. "Don't think that I have much idea of medicine. I just see how he treats his patients and...that reminds me so much of the way my dad does...I know Jess is good at his job!"  
  
Jen smiled broadly at him. "He surely is, Steve! And to be honest...I think that...if he fights for his own life only half as hard as he does for anyone else's, he will make it through!"  
  
Maybe it was because the determination in her tone, which Steve had missed in all the words that had been spoken out in the last days, even in those from his father, maybe it was because he had often seen his friend rescuing lifes, but he got her point and was even willing to believe it.  
  
He nodded. "You are right...", he agreed and straightened up. He had a much more positive feeling now. Jesse would never give up anyone, also not himself, not as long as there was still a small chance left to win.  
  
Jen wondered if she had exceeded her limits, if she had gone one step too far to the side one the thin line between giving hope and throwing sand into somebody's eyes. But she shook that thought out of her mind and forced herself to be not too self-concussious right now. Instead she pointed at Steve's newly dressed wound. "It is not that bad, but you shouldn't play basketball for the next few days!"  
  
She couldn't know that Jesse had said something similar to Steve once and so she didn't even recognize Steve grimacing a little. He only nodded, pressing his lips together to prevent a coming up tantrum about John de Nino, Gale Wentworth, the guard O'Neill, actually everybody. That whole story was nagging on him, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.  
  
"Thanks!", he said and though it sounded a little suppressedly, Jen could sense the uprightness in his tone.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Steve walked along the halls, lookin for Amanda and his dad, another very well-known face came towards him. "Still in one piece?! I am impressed!", teased Tanis Archer looking at Steve's bandaged hand.  
  
"The surgeons here are the best!" Steve shrugged, hiding his hand behind his back, which his partner noticed gleefully.  
  
"You must know it!", shot Tanis back.  
  
They were quarreling as usual, in their sarcastic and charming ways, but both noticed that they weren't really in the mood of fooling around.  
  
"So...how is Travis?" inquired Tanis, who never seemed to learn Jesse's first name, but the face that Steve pulled was more than enough of an answer.  
  
"Though I don't think that will make you feel much better...de Nino confessed everything. He poisoned Berrow by giving his pepper drops which contented anticoagulants and he mixed that whatever it was in your father's drink. He wanted to take revenge for his twin's death." She had to force herself not to make any sneery remarks about evil twins, knowing that Steve would't find that very funny right now. He had probably other problems.  
  
Her partner nodded, but, as she had assumed, he didn't seem to be really happy. "Dirty swine!", muttered Steve. After all Tanis was glad that he limited himself to those insultings towards de Nino. There had been times when Steve wouldn't even had hesitated one second before beating him up.  
  
"Told you it wouldn't be a big help!", said Tanis, gnawing on her lip. "I'm going back to the station to write the protocol...."  
  
"I'll stay here!", answered, but he didn't really assume that she had been about to request anything else.  
  
"Good luck!", mumbled Tanis before she left.  
  
'Yeah, good luck...', thought Steve as he made his way to Jesse's room  
  
  
  
  
  
Without knocking, he only opened the door and sneaked in. Mark and Amanda were sitting on two old chairs. There wasn't much light in the room since Mark hadn't wanted to switch it on and the night outside was still cloudy, moon and stars couldn't be seen. Through the curtain of water drops on the window leaked in some light from the skycrapers around the Community General, they threw a weird cold shimmer and strange shadows into the room.  
  
Mark turned around as he heard the door opening. He and Amanda hadn't been talking, they had just been sitting there lost in thoughts and completely exhausted. "Hey", whispered Steve, he didn't want to disturb the seemingly peaceful silence.  
  
"Hey, good to see you!" Mark grinned a little relievedly. Steve was fine and he was here, and that made Mark feel at least a little at ease.  
  
Steve smiled back. "Mind if I join you?"  
  
Mark and Amanda shook their heads. "Not at all!", Mark replied quietly, as Steve took place on another chair.  
  
So many things had been unsaid and an unpatient, restless and close silence filled the room now. They could hear nothing but Jesse's breath, which was so much weaker than theirs that it was almost drowned by them.  
  
They were waiting, also praying and thinking, but mainly waiting.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Last chapter following soon!!  
  
*********** Actually I had the intention to put everything into this chapter, but as it looks now that would have taken ages! Hope you forgive me and that you are still enjoying the story a bit!!! :-) I thank you so much for the reviews, they are a great help!!! Please keep reviewing! ************ 


	9. Ending

Like some small crystals the last few rain drops were streaming down the windows of the buildings in the LA area, they flickered in the sun, which was rising in the east. Its orange yellow beams of light creeped through the corridors of the Community General Hospital and into the rooms.  
  
Jen Andrews didn't notice that it was already morning, she was sleeping on the couch in the rest room, barely hearing the noises from the ER and the reception desks.  
  
In one of the hospital rooms Mark and Amanda were also sleeping deeply. Amanda was laying on the free bed, Mark was sitting on a chair and a slight snore filled the still warm air. The shouting, bumps and voices of the beginning day didn't seem to disturb them. Steve silenty watched his father from where he was resting and wondered what he would do without him. His father had helped him so often, had always been there for him ever since he could remember, no matter what had happened. Steve was lucky with his family, he knew that, but he also knew that a dad like his was more or less an exception. The detective watched the big yellow fireball rising outside and smiled sadly at the sight. He secretly asked himself what Dane Travis would have done if he had known about all this. Simply the fact that about everything in connection Jesse's father was to be expressed with the word 'if', made Steve clench the fingers on his healthy hand.  
  
'If he had known...If he had been here...If he had been really interested..'  
  
Steve shook his head. Did that man ever care? If...thinking that, Steve chuckled sarcastically...if Dane knew at all what great son he had? Yesterday Mark had risked his life for Jesse's and Steve understood why. He would have done the same and also Amanda and knew that Jesse would have done the same for each of them. Steve threw a look at his friends and his father, at these people who meant everything to him. His small family...  
  
It was when one of the nurses and a new intern accidently clashed in the hall and a tray with empty coffee mugs landed on the floor that Mark woke up. The loud bump had torn him out of a dream, which hadn't been the nicest he had ever had anyway, actually he was quite happy when he realized that it had only been an awful nightmare.  
  
Blinking to figure out where he was, Mark soon knew that not every detail in his nightmare had been a monstrous product of his subconscious. Trying hard to seperate imagination from reality, he looked around and, recognising his friends and his son slowly, he got aware of the events they had been through and why they were here.  
  
Mark stood up from his chair and walked over to Jesse's bed, once again he felt like a heavy stone which was only held by a thin thread was hanging over him and would come down within the next few seconds. Jesse wasn't moving, his skin hadn't got much of its usual color back. Mark cursed himself for falling asleep. Actually he had wanted to stay awake, but somewhen he hadn't managed any more to keep his eyes open.  
  
His son was sitting next to Jesse and staring down at him. He hadn't noticed that his father was awake, but he heard someone moving in the room. Mark could tell from the black shadows under Steve's eyes that he hadn't slept all night.  
  
"Hey son..."  
  
"Hey dad..."  
  
None of the knew what they should talk about. None of them wanted to fill that silence, with what anyway? No word could meet the demands of that awful situation where they were both in, not sure if they would like to know if their hopes, their prayers hab been heard....or not.  
  
"I'm scared..." mumbled Mark.  
  
Steve nodded slowly. "Me too.."  
  
  
  
  
  
Jesse could move as he noticed surprisedly. He could feel his heart beating and his blood running through his veins. His eye lids were heavy, but different to all those hours, days before, there was chance that he would be able to lift them. Jesse didn't remember anything. Not where he was and why, his memory had been swallowed by a deep black hole.  
  
The last thing he knew was -now that he was thinking hard, he noticed his terrible headache- Mark had gone and hadn't come back, Jesse had wanted to follow him, but...yeah, but what? Had he passed out? He obviously had got unconcussious, however, he couldn't tell if he had been out for five minutes, five hours, five days...Suddenly Jesse's heart was racing again. Mark was in danger!  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark and Steve looked puzzledly at their friend, who started to stir. Both father and son didn't know if that was real or if their tired brains were already fooling them.  
  
"Mark!" murmured Jesse.  
  
The older doctor, who had been too stunned to move at all, suddenly realised that Jesse was talking to him, more, he was saying his name. He sat down on the bed and took Jesse's hand, which clenched tightly around his. "I'm here!" he said and when he saw that the knuckles in his fist were becoming white he repeated calmingly. "It's ok, Jess, I'm here!"  
  
"What's up, guys?" asked Amanda yawningly. She had been woken up by the noises next to her. At the sight of Mark at Jesse's bedsite, she smiled a bit relievedly. That seemed to be a good sign.  
  
Jesse felt a a warm hand grabbing his and heard a muffled voice:"I'm here..." It was Mark, Jesse was certain about that. That voice was talking furtherly:"Can you hear me? Jess, can you hear me?"  
  
Jesse relaxed now that he had the feeling that everything seemed to be alright. Slowly he opened his eyes. The bright light of the rising sun blinded him at first and his view was blurred, but having blinked a few times, he could now clearly recognise his friends, who were standing around his bed, all of them looking almost as astonished as relieved.  
  
Mark smiled gently. "Hey there..." He stroked Jesse's forehead and noticed that the fever had really become lower and his friend seemed to breath much more calmly. A pair of blue eyes stared at them, happily, confusedly and wearily at the same time."Hey guys...why...what happened?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "Later, Jess...right now we're just happy that you finally came around!"  
  
Jesse groaned. He felt like a tank had run over him, but on the other hand the sight of his friends being just there made him feel healthier. They were always there for him, one more time he had a proof that he had met the best people in the world, and though he didn't know if he really did deserve them, he just enjoyed his luck right now.  
  
"You really scared us, pal!", smiled Steve, feeling a heavy stone tumbeling from his heart down to the floor. Jesse was gonna be alright, he just knew it. He had made it through. 'I knew you would never give up!' Steve thought and couldn't help but grinning proudly.  
  
Amanda nodded agreeingly. She secretly wiped a tear away, which was about roll down her cheek.  
  
Jesse felt warm, but it was not that sharp heat, which had overwhelmed his body for the past days, it was just a wonderful coisiness. "It's good to see you, guys!"  
  
Then he suddenly frowned at Steve. "Urm...Steve?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"That sun burn looks really bad, since when have you had that?"  
  
Steve the colour of Steve's face was now similar to that of his arm. Getting red, he hid his arm behind his back, but it was already too late. Mark and Amanda had already burst into laughter and even Jesse was grinning in his own mischievous way again.  
  
  
  
Two weeks later at BBQ Bob's  
  
"Hi, Jess, everything ok?", asked Mark as he entered the restaurant together with Amanda about ten minuted after the last guests had left. Jesse was cleaning the counter. He looked completely normal, healthy, youthful and had got his enthusiastic self back.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks!", answered Jesse and added, rolling with his eyes. "And I would be even better if Steve wouldn't ask every thirty seconds how I feel!"  
  
Mark chuckled. "Well, he is worried about you!"  
  
"I can't fight the feeling that he's more worried about the possibilty that I accidently burn his ribs..."  
  
"Which you almost did!" said Steve walking out of the kitchen over to his father and his friends.  
  
"I didn't!", snapped Jesse. "I just like it if the meat I eat isn't raw any more..."  
  
"Well, I don't know about Elgin, but when the ribs are as black as the night we call them burned here!" retorted Steve.  
  
"Kids...kids..." Mark laughed. "Stop teasing each other and let's eat!"  
  
Jesse and Steve both pointed at each other. "He's started!"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yeah! Exactly you!"  
  
"At least I can cook!"  
  
"Does that mean I can't!?"  
  
"That means that you can't make difference between burned and crunchy!"  
  
Mark and Amanda shook their heads and smiled at the two -like kids- quarreling men behind the counter. "Well", started Mark, "At least everything is back to normal!"  
  
Amanda gave him a mischievous look. "Depends on what you call 'normal'!"  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ok, it's over, it's all over and done!!! I hate writing ends *sniff* and I'm glad that's it's ready now, though. Thank you for all the reviews, they have been a big help and encouragement. Good for you? Bad for you? Who knows... ;-) Thank you for all your patience and your will to overlook small or less small mistakes. Thank you for bearing some unprofessionell English and my Jesse addiction! *grin* You will hear from me!...  
  
So don't say I haven't warned you! 


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